Once upon a time, I went to a university in Scotland for three years. I hated it so much that I applied for a transfer to The New School here in NYC after my third year. What I’m ashamed to admit is that my admission portfolio consisted of the basic application plus the following two gems:
1. A piece of ‘art,’ which was an incredibly shitty drawing of a human heart with the different parts labeled after the neighborhoods of Manhattan and the caption, “I left my heart in New York City,”
2. An audio recording of me singing the Glasvegas song “Daddy’s Gone” in a Scottish accent. I attached a note that said, “This is the only thing I learned how to do in Scotland.”
Shock of all shocks – they didn’t take me.